Amazing Reflections: Youngest to Oldest
by EveningInHornersCorners
Summary: The ten Chan children share their thoughts on one another.
1. My Bossy Older Sister

My Bossy Older Sister

Scooter's Thoughts on Mimi

Since I was little I've always looked up to Flip. He's like a father when Pop and Henry aren't around, only not as, well, adult like. Chief understands that I can take care of myself.

Mimi doesn't.

She's only one year older than me, and still bosses me around as if she were the queen. It drives me bananas. There is something wrong with her. Sometimes I'd like to hit her, but Pop always told us we must never be mean or hurt each other.

He's never told Mimi to stop bossing me, either.

But deep down I think we're friends.


	2. My Sister, the Great

My Sister, the Great

Mimi's Thoughts on Nancy

My sister Nancy is a lot of things. She's two years older than me, and two grades above me. She and Stanley both like to eat. She's pretty. Not as pretty as Suzy, but still pretty. She likes animals, especially Chu Chu.

And she's a pretty great sister.

When we split up, we're usually with Flip and Scooter, who _like_ doing this kind of thing.

I mean, we all _like_ it, but those two especially. When those two are in your group, it's nice to have someone else who isn't afraid to be scared. Scooter and Flip never _flinch_, let alone shiver. It's like fear _can't _get to them. Sometimes I wonder how they do it. Why else do you think I like bossing Scooter around? He's braver, and I don't like it.

But when we're split up like that, into our normal four groups: Henry and Stanley; Suzy, Alan, Anne, and Tom; me, Nancy, Scooter, and Flip; and Pop on his own, our group is more like two separate groups.

Flip and Scooter are one, and Nancy and I are the other.

The boys are strong and cool. And we girls are just… girly.

But there's nothing wrong with that.


	3. Let Me Be the One

Let Me Be the One

Nancy's Thoughts on Flip

There's never been a _lot_ of rivalry between Flip and me. I mean, sure, there's a little, but considering that we're only three years apart two fights a year isn't bad. Or at least that's what Tom says. Well, that's what I _think _he says. You can never tell with him. But apparently he's been reading up on child psychology or something.

In fact, I consider Flip my coolest brother. Really.

Yeah, all my brothers have their perks. Henry is protective (though sometimes overly so), Stanley is funny (though sometimes overly so), Alan is a groovy dresser (though sometimes overly so), and Tom is smart (though sometimes overly so). So you get the picture. They all sometimes over-do their perks. Okay, in Stanley's case, he _always _overdoes things just a little. Okay, a lot.

But not Flip.

He's just his own person. No overdone perks at all. He's just out there. Free. Everything he does screams that one word. Free.

I like to think we're friends. Brother and sister, yes. But friends. I'll admit, sometimes it makes me a little jealous because he's so close to Scooter. I have Mimi, and I love her to death, but I wish I were a little closer to Flip.

Yeah, he's accused me of being a coward and stuff like that. But don't all older brothers? Things like that go into our two fights a year.

The thing is, Flip's a great leader. His leadership is part of what makes us younger kids a great group, just as good (or maybe even better) than the older kids. He takes over, but not (and you should, by the way, see this coming) overly so. He doesn't order us around or anything. He _guides _us, like an older brother should.

There's a big difference between the two.


	4. Run!

Run!

Flip's Thoughts on Tom

I will readily admit that Tom's extreme intelligence annoys the heck out of me sometimes. I mean, here he is, thirteen to my twelve, but going on forty-five. I swear he'll be able to get his Bachelor, Master, and PhD all in four years.

Him being so smart _does_ come in handy every once in a while, even if most of the time that fascinating new specimen which he wouldn't have been able to identify if he _hadn't_ been so smart drives him to distraction.

Truthfully, I almost wish _I_ were like that. That's why I get such a kick out of leading the younger kids; I'm smarter than every single one of them, and that fact helps me to come to grips with the knowledge that I will never be as brilliant as Tom.

Really, I only remember one time he said something in common English.

It's a vague memory. I don't really even remember how old I was. Around Nancy's age, I guess. Nine?

Well, in any case, at that point in time Tom was already a walking dictionary/encyclopedia (mostly dictionary, though) and speaking in terms that really none of us but Pop and Henry could comprehend. Rightly, Stanley should have been able to understand them, but he was always too busy messing around with his countless disguises and such to ever read or pay attention in school, so he sometimes didn't even understand what _I_ was saying. And I'm starting to ramble.

Scooter was only three, Mimi four, and Nancy six, so Suzy elected to stay home with them while the rest of us decided to "help out" Pop. Obviously, since we only had six people, (two and possibly three of whom wouldn't have been any help whatsoever) we didn't divide into the groups we usually do now. Instead, we went off in three groups of two, Henry and Stanley (always), Tom and me, and Anne and Alan (thank goodness a twelve year-old Alan wasn't prone to poking fun at Anne's gender yet).

So, we went off in our little gaggles. In hindsight I realize we didn't know what we were doing at all, but, naturally, we were under the trance of childish optimism and this fact didn't faze us in the least. Back then we just did it because we thought we were being helpful and we had fun at it. I guess Scooter and Mimi still sort of do it for that, but by now I think the rest of us (including Nancy; don't tell her I said so, but she's really sharper than meets the eye) realize that Pop almost _expects _us to interfere. The idea of doing it in secret and taking the "initiative" to "help out" is a lot of the fun.

Well, in any case, Tom and I are slinking along this alley when what do you know this man drives up in a car, parks, and climbs out carrying a sleek pistol.

Tom saw the guy, and, being Tom, even at age ten, could tell the difference between a fake pistol and genuine pistol from a hundred yards. Apparently this was the real deal.

He didn't appear to be threatening us in any way, but my older brother nonetheless uttered his groundbreaking, actually comprehendible phrase:

"Run!"

But somehow I just couldn't run. Was this really _my_ older brother talking? Had I maybe been hanging with his doppelganger the entire time?

Before I knew what was happening, he had me by the arm and was almost dragging me away.

"Flip," he snapped, "It would be propitious if you might give ear to my remark and heed my advice."

Despite myself, I grinned.

Everything was back to normal.


End file.
